klute

In many ways, Klute (1971) is the logical result of a broken studio system attempting to create a new formula. The thriller aspects of director Alan J. Pakula's production, liberally lifted from latter Hitchcock films and Italian giallo copycats, offers up the seedy inspiration for '80s thrillers like Basic Instinct where both heroes and heroines are only a few moral notches away from the psychos they pursue. But with the new Hollywood ethos in play, Klute is allowed make up its own rules, explore (or in some cases ignore) its characters, and linger where its inspirations could not.

A New York call girl with theatrical aspirations, Bree Daniels (Jane Fonda) becomes a "person-of-interest" in the disappearance of a buttoned-down family man connected by a series of pornographic letters. John Klute (Donald Sutherland) is the private investigator with a vested interest in the case who also takes a romantic interest in his chief witness. As the pair track down leads, the killer ties up loose ends, leaving a trail of bodies that leads to Bree herself.

Although the script plays a rather conventional game of cat-and-mouse, Pakula's approach is decidedly psychological and introspective, fracturing the typical movie mystery structure with improvised therapy sessions and off-camera voice-overs. Klute doesn't follow a straight line; its story is cultured like bacteria in a petri dish, growing new narrative appendages as the characters take shape.

And there's no doubt that this is Jane Fonda's film, despite the fact that it's named after Sutherland's character. That's the first of many antithetical choices Pakula seems to embrace simply to break from audience expectations. Bree's profession isn't stigmatized; she provides a service. And Fonda turns in a performance full of personal demons and human frailty; she makes Bree Daniels feel lived-in. While Sutherland bravely turns his small-town PI into a sidekick relegated to only a handful of lines, each with more impact than the last.

The Criterion Collection's new Blu-ray is sourced from a newly restored 4K digital master, which does wonderful things with Gordon Willis' shadowy cinematography. Extras include new interviews and featurettes along with an archival documentary and liner notes. It's a gorgeously ambiguous piece of early '70s filmmaking that deserves a spot in every collection.